Of Books and Music
by ilarual
Summary: This is basically the dumping ground for all my random SoMa oneshots. Current: It's Maka's twenty-first birthday, and Soul finds himself deeply regretting letting her drink.
1. College AU

**Author's Notes-** So I decided I needed a place to collect my random-ass SoMa ficlets that don't really belong anywhere else and don't quite work as standalones. Probably a lot of it will be requests (the first few I'm uploading here are prompts I got on Tumblr that were supposed to be three sentences long and kinda got out of hand, for instance), but it's just sort of... whatever. AU, UA, canon-verse, whatever.

So let's kick if off with a little college AU, shall we? There may be more of this AU forthcoming, we shall see...

* * *

**Roommates**

* * *

Soul scanned the numbers on the doors, counting up to the apartment number circled in the classified ad. Number 64, Floor 5. It wasn't the nicest apartment complex in town, but 4200 Forty-Second Street wasn't exactly a dump, either. He wouldn't mind living here in the slightest.

He'd spotted the ad in the paper yesterday: _female, 20, seeks roommate, must be quiet and tidy_. Well, he wouldn't describe himself as _tidy_ so much, but he wasn't a slob either, and he was definitely quiet. And it wasn't like he had a whole lot of other options going for him. Having a female roommate hadn't been his ideal choice, but he could make it work if she was up for it. He needed to get out of the dorms, stat.

Soul had been planning on living with Black Star but then the idiot had to go and get engaged and move in with his fiancee, which was something Soul honestly couldn't understand. Black Star had never struck him as the domestic type but now here he was picking out matching potholders for his and Tsubaki's kitchen. It seemed crazy. But then, as 'Star had told him (repeatedly), he'd never exactly been in love so he wasn't in a position to judge. If being with her made the little guy happy, then Tsubaki could have all the embroidered tea cozies she wanted, Soul supposed.

He could've lived with some of his other guy friends, but Kilik and Harvar and their weird friend with the haircut were already in a three-bedroom apartment. Sure, they offered to move into a four-bedroom in the same building, but they'd been living in their apartment for a year by the time he decided dorm life was not his thing, and he didn't want to uproot them just to do him a favor. He could have hypothetically gotten a place of his own, but that would have meant asking his parents for money and he wasn't going to do that unless his life _literally_ depended on it.

Hence his current adventures, running all over town trying to find a roommate who'd be willing to put up with his useless ass.

Finding the right apartment at last, he knocked. The door swung open promptly.

"Hey, sorry to just drop by, but, uh, I'm here about the room-" he began to explain, but when he got clear look at the blonde in the doorway, he did a double take. "Hang on, I know you," he said. "Maka, right?"

She squinted at him. "Yeah, how did you…? Wait, you're friends with Blake and Kilik, right?"

Soul nodded, grinning. This had suddenly taken a turn for the better. They had mutual friends, had been dragged along on mutual group outings, and although they'd never spent much time together, he knew enough of her to think well of her.

"Name's Soul," he told her. "We also had a few classes together freshman year, too, I think."

"Biology. And Intro to Statistics."

Soul made a face and, to his surprise, so did she.

"I hated stats," she confided.

"Same," he said.

He took a moment to look her over. She didn't seem to care that it was early spring and still chilly (either that or the heating in this building was way better than dorms), because she was in tiny little short-shorts and a tank top that didn't leave much to the imagination. Not that there was much there to begin with, but Soul had always been more of a leg man and speaking of her legs…

_Danger, Will Robinson, do not ogle your potential future roommate._

Since his eyes were already halfway through the trip down those mile-long legs of hers, he figured he might as well go the rest of the way, and found himself staring at a pair of black and purple striped fuzzy socks with little sparkly purple pom-poms on the bands. They were an unlikely contrast to the aura of sexy the rest of her exuded, and Soul found it strangely cute. She scrunched up her toes and cleared her throat loudly.

"Any reason you're staring at my feet?" she asked.

Aw shit, she was gonna think he was some kind of weird foot-fetish guy. Not cool. Time to salvage the situation. "Nice socks," he said, giving her a cheeky smirk.

She colored and glared at him. "The floor is cold," she informed him tartly.

"So I see." He ran a hand through his hair, not sure why he felt so nervous all of a sudden. "Anyway, like I was saying, I saw you were advertising for a roommate, and… uh… I'm kinda in the market for a place to live myself, so…"

She bit her lip, looking him over thoughtfully. Then she sighed. "Come in," she said, opening the door wider.

It was a nice place. The floors were all broad ceramic tile, the nice kind with pretty-colored grout in between and not the gross speckled kind that they always put in schools and public bathrooms. Certainly much better than the linoleum in his old dorm. It was an open floor plan, with three doors leading off into what he assumed were bedrooms and a bathroom. Recessed lighting gave the whole place a bright, homey feel, and from what he could see, her furniture looked comfortable. Soul found himself hoping he'd end up living here, and not just because he'd get to have a hot roommate but because it actually was a pretty nice apartment, even if it wasn't in the best neighborhood (not terrible, but not really walk-alone-at-night territory either).

"So this is the place. I'd show you the room, but my current roommate isn't here right now and her bedroom's usually a disaster zone," she informed him.

He shrugged. "I've probably seen worse."

"No, I mean… Blair's great, but just trust me when I say you don't want to see some of the things she leaves lying around. She has… um… interesting appetites."

The way she said it made Soul think she might not be talking about food.

Maka rolled her eyes, then sobered and, with a serious look, told him: "Listen, I don't mean to offend you, but I wasn't really looking to live with a guy."

"Yeah, I wasn't thinking about living with a girl, either," he said. "But I'm running out of options."

"Black Star said he was gonna live with you, wasn't he?" Maka asked.

Soul nodded. "But then he went and got engaged, so there goes that plan."

Maka rolled her eyes. "Poor Tsubaki, I'm still trying to figure out what she sees in him, and I've known him _forever!_"

"You guys went to high school together, right?"

She nodded, then stared at the floor for a second, apparently deliberating. "Look, like I said, I really wasn't looking to live with a guy, but… Black Star thinks you're great, and he might be an idiot but he's a good judge of character. So if you really want the spare room… we could maybe spend the next couple of months getting to know each other, and if we think we could live together by the time Blair moves out in May, the room's yours."

Soul resisted the urge to jump for joy.


	2. Phantom

**Author's Notes-** Aaaaand then we have a Phantom of the Opera AU, because Soul could not be more Phantom-esque if he tried.

* * *

**Phantom**

* * *

She is not like Elizabeth. She never has been. She is not gentle and strong and ephemerally beautiful like her older friend… but she is fearless, and so as the opera house burns above her, she plunges down into the dark far beneath.

She isn't entirely sure why. Whether it is to catch the Opera Ghost- who she knows is nothing more than a man better than anyone (except perhaps her papa)- and drag him back by his snowy white hair to face justice for his crimes, or because there is some strange longing in her to understand this strange, tormented creature, she isn't sure. It is probably a little mix of both, but when she finds him, sees him broken and ready to die of loneliness because the one person he ever tried to reach out to didn't know how to handle him… well, what else can she do?

They do not get along. He is prone to fits of moping, she is stubborn and uncompromising and refuses to let him waste away; she provokes his temper easily and he has a way of getting under her skin. And yet, they understand each other in some strange way. It shouldn't be possible. A ballet rat who only longed to be the best, to have the spotlight, to have everyone acknowledge that she was just as good as her mother once was, only to be outshone by her lovely friend, and a twisted, angry musical genius who has known little of love or human kindness… somehow they fit together perfectly. It probably helps that she is not frightened by his face, by the bone-white hair and scarlet eyes and fearsome teeth that had Elizabeth crying "monster!" and "demon!"

She does not return to the sunlit world of the streets of Paris, not at first, and she never goes back to the opera house. She is able to contact Black*Star, to send a message to her father to let him know she is alive and well, but the theatre is in ruins anyway and somehow, helping Soul seems more important.

Eventually, she spirits him away to Austria. It seems appropriate that they take refuge in Vienna, birthplace of composers and temple of musical learning. Eventually he goes out in public, though only in her company and he insists on a wig to conceal his hair and a hat to throw shadows across his eyes to dim their vibrant color. He speaks very little, so as not to reveal his teeth, and as a result his speech is curt and almost rude. She takes to acting as his spokesperson when they go out.

She is eventually able to coax him into playing for her, and his music breaks her heart. It is wild and strange and unlike any composer she has ever heard, it has strains of darkness and discord running through it, yet it is beautiful, and it touches her in a way nothing has before. She heard his music once, when they performed his opera, but the difference between hearing his music performed and hearing _him_ perform his music is infinite.

He is a strange blend of arrogance and insecurity, and it makes Maka sad. What must his life have been like before this? A child abandoned for his strange appearance, an orphaned genius treated as a sideshow freak for years before an unlikely encounter with her father brought him to the labyrinth beneath the opera house… it must have been so lonely. It breaks her heart, for Soul is such a gentle creature. Whatever madness took him over in his pursuit of Elizabeth, whatever insanity held sway and drove him to such violence, it is not his true nature and she learns to see this in time. Soul is sarcastic and prickly and not always nice, but he is unfailingly _kind_ and he has a sensitive nature she would never have anticipated just from the rumors that flew through the ballet dormitories about the bloodthirsty Phantom.

Somewhere along the way, she finds that she loves him. It is soft and simple, but it doesn't terrify her as it should because he is safe to love. He won't return her love, so she is free to care about him in whatever way she chooses and know there will be no consequences. It doesn't matter that sometimes he looks at her with such gentle affection in his eyes. It doesn't matter that he touches her so easily now, spontaneous hugs and a friendly ruffle of her hair now and again. It can't _mean_ anything, because his heart belongs yet to Elizabeth.

Except, she discovers one day, two years after the fire in the opera house, perhaps she is wrong, because he kisses her. He kisses her and whispers to her that she has saved him, that she has taught him to love, and that this love must be true because although it is its own kind of madness, it is not the violent insanity that took him over once. He does not grab at her as he once did Elizabeth, desperately reaching out and pleading for her to understand him. He simply waits, his declaration made, and prepares himself for her judgement.

Maka's only response is to return his kiss, soft and kind, to tell him that she hears him, that he does not have to be alone anymore.


	3. Intuition (Underground AU)

**Author's Note-** This is a little snippet from my Underground AU, which is a massive project I'm working on behind the scenes, an adaptation of an original novel of mine that never quite got off the ground but which was perfect for a Liz-centric AU (loaded, naturally, with all the SoMa I can possibly manage because this is me we're talking about). This bit probably won't appear in the fic itself, but it's in that universe and on that timeline, so whatever. Enjoy this foretaste of things to come.

* * *

**Intuition  
**

* * *

They hadn't been able to get a hotel. It wasn't the first time that had happened, because they were getting into the southwest now, and distances between towns were farther than they had been back east, but it was the first time it had been cold like this. Soul supposed that was fairly normal for the desert, though. He'd heard somewhere it got cold at night out here.

They'd found a reasonably flat piece of land and walked the bikes a good distance off the highway. Not like Arachnophobia or the Reapers was likely to search for Liz out here, but if the last month or so had taught him anything, it was to always expect the unexpected.

Kilik had started a fire with a snap of his fingers, and not for the first time Soul was glad they had him along. He and Liz had stayed awake long enough to eat a couple of cans of lukewarm baked beans cooked haphazardly over the fire in the can, then curled up under their jackets and crashed. Soul was left alone to stare at the fire and hope he'd win his nightly battle with insomnia this time.

No. Not alone. Because they had a fourth member of their group now, and when he glanced at the pigtailed blonde across the fire, he saw that she at least was very much still awake.

When she caught him looking, she got up and walked around the fire to plop down next to him, moving with that weird clumsy grace of hers. She was still wearing that ridiculously huge sweatshirt of hers, and while he could understand wanting the protection from the cold (because it actually was fucking _freezing_, even with the fire), he'd never actually seen her take it off since she'd joined their company. He wondered if she was hiding something, like an extra limb or a dead conjoined twin.

Or maybe he was just loopy because he was exhausted and it was freezing, because there was no way a girl like Maka had anything quite that messed up going on.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied gruffly.

She poked at the fire with the stick she was carrying. "We probably should have moved another hundred yards off the road," she said.

He looked sharply at her. "Did you see somethin'?" he asked.

She snorted and shook her head. "No, I'm just being cautious. And I _told_ you, I don't "see" things, like visions and stuff… I just get a sense of things that are going to happen, and about people. It's like super-charged intuition."

"Oh yeah? Well what does your super-intuition say about me?" he asked. He said it teasingly, but he really wanted to know, because it was _his_ name that she'd called out when she'd found them days earlier, and _he_ was the one she'd been giving strange looks, even though this was Liz's mission. Then again, he was used to strange looks, what with his rather unusual features. Still, the way Maka looked at him was… different. He couldn't explain it, and it made him nervous.

She kept staring into the fire, eyes distant, but she spoke normally. "You're really tricky to read, but I know you're very confused and very scared and very far from home, even though you act like you know exactly what you're doing. And I know… I know you're a good person."

Soul snorted. "You don't know shit. I think your radar's busted." He was a lot of things, but "good" wasn't one of them. He'd known that for a long time. Dangerous, but not good.

She shrugged. "Have it your own way, but I know what I feel."

They fell silent for awhile, and Soul thought Maka had begun to nod off, but when he shivered, she took notice. "You cold?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It's not exactly the Bahamas, but I'm fine."

"Come on, you're shaking," she said, and before he could protest she wrapped an arm around him.

Soul wanted to tell her to get off, but having her arm around his shoulders actually did make him feel a lot warmer, and despite himself he couldn't bring himself to push her away. She was a weird one, this Maka… not that he had any room to talk. He wasn't sure why he was letting her touch him like this, but it felt nice so whatever. Besides, she'd had her arms wrapped around him for the last five days on the motorcycle, so this wasn't much different, right?

Soul closed his eyes, leaning into the radiant heat that seemed to pour into him from the direction of her little body. Before he knew it, he had slipped into sleep, nodding off on Maka's shoulder.

The little blonde glanced down at the strange boy dozing on her shoulder and smiled. Soul Eater could say what he liked; she could tell what he was like beneath that icy front he put up.


	4. Firefight

**Author's Notes-** For Proma, who challenged me to write a story where Soul and Maka hate each other, and who received something not even remotely like what she asked for. But hopefully this will tickle a few fancies nonetheless.

* * *

**Firefight**

* * *

Maka wasn't really the marrying type, but somehow he'd always thought that if she ever got all dolled up, white gown and heartbreakingly beautiful, it would be for him. He supposed that just went to show how much three years could change things.

And it wasn't just the times that had changed. She had, too. She'd been sucked into their world, he didn't know how (yes he did), and her eyes were so much more guarded now. Anyone else who'd been on the receiving end of the stare she was giving him when their eyes met in the mirror would have just seen a polite- if a little forced- smile. But even after all this time he could still read her. He could read the anger and hurt in her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. Spat, really. "I didn't think you would deign to come."

How had they gotten to this place? So much bitterness and spite in her words… it made him sick. "Of course I'm going to come to my best friend's wedding," he said.

That gave her pause, and she turned around to face him properly. "You still call me your best friend?" she asked, and _god_ he both hated and loved that vulnerability in her voice, that sound that told him he still mattered, at least a little bit.

"Of course you're still my best friend." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No matter what, you'll always be my first meister, Maka."

That openness he'd seen in her shut down so fast he thought he could hear the slam. "Oh," she said, ice pouring from that one syllable. "I'm glad to hear of the sentimentality, I guess."

He had said the wrong thing again. Once upon a time, he always said the right thing… or rather, he was as bad at saying the right thing as ever, but Maka _heard_ him, she knew what he was trying to say even if it didn't come out quite right. He sighed. "Look, whatever this is that's happened to us, I just want you to be happy. You know that, right?"

She frowned at him. "I suppose."

"And this… this will make you happy, right?" He needed to hear that even if he couldn't have her, she would be happy. As long as that was true, then he could reassure himself that he'd done the right thing in keeping quiet, cutting off their partnership for the sake of his stupid unrequited love.

"I made a promise and I intend to keep it," she answered, but that wasn't the answer he was looking for.

"That's not what I asked."

"Soul…"

"Answer the question, Maka." Is that really him sounding so cold and angry?

She glares at him and _oh_, there's that fire in her eyes, there's his Maka. No. Not his, not ever again… but oh wouldn't it be nice?

"I'll be happy enough," she said. "This wasn't my first choice and I'd think you'd have figured that out by now, but I've got the teaching position at Shibusen and-"

"No, fuck that," Soul spat out, interrupting her. How dare she? How dare she go off and marry _him_, of all people, and leave him alone with a broken heart? She'd taught him that he was worth something, taught him that he deserved what would make him happy, and just when he'd figured out that all he really needed to be happy was her, she'd gone and started on the path that had led to all of this! And if she wasn't even really happy with her choice, that wasn't fucking fair to _any_ of them.

"Soul-"

"No, Maka, you shut up and listen for a second. If you don't want this, if you have any doubts at all that this is exactly what you need, then don't fucking do it. I didn't fucking give you up so you could be unhappy!"

He was probably some kind of masochist that the flare of deadly green in her eyes like she was ready to fucking murder him was a huge turn-on.

"Oh, what," she said mockingly. "Poor Soul ends his partnership and then wants to whine about it when I say no take-backs?"

"Fuck you."

"No, fuck _you_, Soul. You don't know anything about giving things up!"

Yeah right. It's a sign of how well he hid these feelings- for the sake of their now defunct partnership _of course_- that she has no clue just how much he really has given up.

But she's not done yet. "Do you have any idea how many years I spent keeping my mouth shut just so that we could stay together, stay the way we were? I kept my mouth shut and didn't tell you any damn thing about how I felt about you but you know what? That fucking _sucks_, Soul." She's crying now, she's going to ruin her pretty eyeliner (since when does she wear eyeliner? Oh right… since _him_). "It sucks and it hurt and you were never gonna love me the way I loved you so I had to get out, you understand? I had to let go and move on and I did, and I thought that would fix our partnership but then you went and ended everything. Not me, _you!_ So you don't have the right to complain about that being over, because I did everything right, Soul. You're the one who messed it all up." She flops down on her dressing-room chair in exhaustion, and it would probably be graceful if it weren't for the ten pounds of taffeta anchored to her skirt.

It takes Soul a long few seconds to try and process everything. Because this doesn't make sense… this isn't how he remembers things… but then again, he's always been a little too good at getting stuck in his own head when he's stewing over something, is it possible that he…?

"Just go, Soul," she says, and she sounds so _tired_. "Now you know everything, I guess, so you can just… just go and laugh about poor little Maka who had to settle for second best."

"You know I wouldn't do that," he says blankly, because what the hell else can he say?

"Yeah. I know."

"Maka…"

God he can't stand the tears pouring down her cheeks or the forlorn way she mumbles "what?" like speaking is just too much effort right now.

He's got her face cupped in his hands before he knows what he's doing, fingers brushing away the tear-tracks and smearing her makeup in the process but at least he'd tried, right? And all he can hear is her voice saying over and over again "_the way I loved you_" because he thinks he knows what that means and it's amazing and terrifying and he can't just let that be, because he's already let too many chances slip by and he'll be damned if he loses the last one, so he leans down and kisses her, slow and passionate and full of every ounce of heartbreak he's felt watching her date _him_, kiss _him_, wear _his_ ring… he wants her to know, _needs_ her to know, how much he loved her. Still loves her, in spite of this insane gulf of bitter months between them, more painful than the black blood could ever dream of being…

She doesn't protest his kiss, in fact he thinks she might have kissed him back, which is not the behavior of a soon-to-be-married woman, and it gives him a spark of hope, but this has to be her decision whether or not she wants him. He'll lay his cards on the table and leave it up to her to count them.

"I won't apologize," he says against her lips when he finally breaks the kiss. "No matter what happens, I've loved you for years and I always will."

Her eyes are still closed. "Don't say things you don't mean," she whispers.

"I'm not. I've been saying things I don't mean for too long now. I want to be honest for once. Look," he drops his hands from her face and steps back. Those bright emerald eyes open to look at him. "I've said my piece. You do what you want now. If you… if you really want to marry him, then go marry him, and just promise me you'll be happy. And if you don't want to marry him… well, I'm always around."

Walking out of that room not knowing what's going to happen is the hardest thing he's ever done, but he trusts her to make the decision that's right for her. Once upon a time, he knows that she would have given up her own happiness to ensure his own, because they were stupid like that, but they're older and wiser now, and he knows she will stop and think this over and do what's best for both of them. She won't trap herself into a relationship that feels wrong out of obligation. In fact, he's pretty sure that even if he hadn't shown up today to throw a wrench in things, she wouldn't get married if she really felt it was the wrong thing to do. Maka's never been the kind of person to care about the two hundred guests or the deposit for the reception hall or the fact that the cake has already been ordered and made or any of that crap. She's like him, she understands the importance of those things but doesn't let them rule her. If she decides she wants to get married today, then she will, and she'll feel bad (she's always felt bad when he gets hurt) but she won't let that hold her back. And if she wants him (he thinks maybe, just maybe, she does), then she won't let the people out there waiting to see her say "I do" stop her. And so Soul walks away, heads back to his apartment (used to be their apartment) to wait out the day and find out what fate- or more accurately, Maka- has in store for him.

Back in the bridal room, Maka sits at her dressing table and stares at her tear-soaked face in the mirror for several long minutes, whether lost in thought or earnestly pondering, only she is sure.

Eventually, she shakes herself, pulls a sheet of paper from a drawer, and begins to compose a note.


	5. Foster

**Author's Note-** I received a prompt for Soul and Maka finding themselves in the care of a child. So then this happened, it's short but hopefully sweet. I feel like this is another scenario that may have further expansion in the future. But we'll see, I guess.

And since there seems to be some confusion, _no_ I don't plan on a continuation of the previous chapter, _no_ it is not unfinished, and _yes_ of course she chose Soul. (Spirit is elated)

* * *

**Foster  
**

* * *

"So you're really gonna do this?" Maka asked, peering down at the ten-month-old in the bassinet.

Soul shrugged. "What other choice to I have? Wes specifically said in his will that he wanted me to have custody of the kid if anything happened to him and Swati. And with my dad's condition advancing so fast…" He let out a little sigh. "There's no way my mum can take care of both Dad and Chitra."

Maka reached down and lifted the baby into her arms. She was a good-natured child, from what Maka had observed. Although the baby looked more like her Pakistani mother with her dark skin and cheeks that were round and rosy even for an infant, she had inherited both her father's blue eyes and his sweet, easy-going temperament. Maka coddled the child close, chuckling when Chitra reached up to wrap a chubby little fist around one of her pigtails. She easily untangled her hair from Chitra's fingers when the baby started to pull.

She felt her heart tug in her chest as she gazed at the little orphaned child in her arms. Maka had never had any strong opinions about babies, but this poor little girl had just lost her parents, and all she had left in the world, it seemed, was Soul. It was so unfair, both for the child and for Soul, who was in no way prepared to suddenly become a parent.

She suspected, though, that he would be a good one. But he shouldn't have to do it alone.

"You know I'll help," she promised, glancing from the baby to Soul.

He looked amazed. "You know you don't have to-"

"I know I don't," she said. "Co-parenting isn't part of most partnership agreements. But you can't raise a little girl all by yourself, Soul. What kind of friend would I be if I let you try to go through all this alone?"

She hoped she wasn't imagining how pleased Soul looked as he asked, "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Of course. I'll take that teaching position Miss Marie's kept pestering me about, and you can ask Kid to put you on reserve status for awhile. If we have to we'll just take light missions to keep ourselves in practice."

If Soul had looked surprised before, he looked utterly gobsmacked now. "You'd do that f-for me? But what about all those big dreams you had?"

Maka shrugged. "My dream was to make a death scythe more powerful than my father, but that had stopped being my goal a long time before we actually accomplished that, you know?"

"Huh?"

Smiling at his obliviousness, she shifted the baby's weight a little so she could hold her with one arm, and wrapped the other around her partner's waist to draw him into a little one armed hug. "Looking after you has been my priority for a long time, Soul. That's not gonna change just because you've got a kid to raise, now."

She grinned when she felt her partner's arm sneak around her shoulder. "You're the best, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know."

Then, to her absolute amazement, she felt Soul's lips lightly brush her cheek. "Thanks, Maka. You have no idea how much that means to me."

Maka tried very hard to hide her smile and completely failed at hiding her blush, and as she looked down at the little girl in her arms, she couldn't help but feel that maybe Chitra had just unwittingly pushed them to take the next step in this long dance they'd been doing around each other for so many years.


	6. Unbreakable

**Author's Notes-** Ahhhh the Book of Eibon... *takes deep refreshing breath* *sobs grossly*

This stems from the feels induced by that one tile in the Sloth chapter right after Maka makes her big 'breakup' pronouncement and you can see Soul's hands literally _shaking_ because he's so utterly terrified in that moment. As a result, it's mostly just me puking my OTP feels out onto the internet. It's possibly very stupid, and definitely very sappy. It's essentially shameless self-gratification on my part so I'm pleased with it, but I'll leave it up to you to decide what you think.

* * *

**Unbreakable**

"_When we collide we lose ourselves._  
_ When we collide we break in two,_  
_ And as we push and we shove _  
_and we hurt the ones we love..._"  
-Dishwalla

* * *

They had been tired after emerging from the Book and the subsequent pitched battle, but after over an hour in Shibusen's dispensary having their wounds treated by Nygus, it was safe to say they were exhausted. The whole misadventure within the Book of Eibon had been trying to say the very least, and it was all Soul and Maka could do to drag themselves home on the back of Soul's motorcycle.

The atmosphere between them was heavy as they entered their apartment. It had been a chaotic, emotional day... or had it been more than a day? Time had passed so strangely within the Book and no one had bothered to let them know just how long they'd been gone.

Maka shot a glance at her partner, taking in the slump of his shoulders and the tense set of his jaw. Abruptly, she decided that she wasn't ready to deal with him.

Things had gotten so messed up with them for a little while there, and although they had gotten pretty good at sweeping emotional baggage under the rug, this was different. This had almost ended their partnership. Soul wasn't the most talkative guy, but even he had his limits, and she knew there was no way to just push all this away like it hadn't even happened. They were going to have to deal with it eventually. But not right now. She couldn't deal with this yet.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," she announced suddenly.

Soul only grunted in response, and Maka made her escape.

A hot shower helped, although she had to take great care not to get her stitches wet. She dallied under the hot water, washing away the stress of the intense mission as best she could. It could only do so much, however, and she still felt simultaneously keyed up and exhausted.

She was surprised, upon entering the living room, to find Soul still awake. He had changed out of his bloodstained Spartoi uniform and into an old pair of sweatpants and a band t-shirt, but otherwise she wouldn't have been able to tell that he'd even moved from the sofa while she was showering. He sat with his elbows braced on his knees and his head in his hands. It was a weary, defeated posture- unusual for her reserved, laid-back partner. Just looking at him, she could clearly see that their journey through the Book had taken as much of a toll on him as it had on her.

Even though all she wanted to do was hide herself away to sleep and wait to face him until the rawness of her emotions had settled down, Maka couldn't bring herself to escape when he looked like that. She knew Soul well, and she knew it wasn't good to let him stew when he had something on his mind. It had taken her a long time to recognize it, but she knew now that if he was left to his own devices his thoughts tended to become a little self-abusive.

For the hundredth time, she wondered what he had seen in the Envy chapter. She knew she was never going to ask him.

"Soul?" She laid a hand lightly on his shoulder, alerting him to her presence.

He looked up at her, a little startled to find her standing over him. One corner of his mouth hitched up in a sad attempt at a smile.

"Hey."

"Hey." Maka had a bad feeling that her own smile wasn't much more cheerful than his. "You should get some sleep."

Soul nodded, straightening up a little. His knee knocked into hers as his body shifted.

"I will in a bit," he said. He seemed to be hesitating on the verge of saying more, and Maka waited, curious and skittish and filled with that particular flavor of detached apathy that only comes with exhaustion.

After a moment's pause, the words he'd been deliberating over spilled out. "You scared the hell outta me today," he informed her frankly.

Maka felt a sinking pull in her gut as she remembered the fight with Giriko, how it had very nearly been the end of both of them. "I know, I'm sorry," she hastened to say. "I froze up and nearly got us killed. It won't happen again."

"No, not that," he said. "C'mon, Maka. We're in a dangerous line of work. We fight batshit crazy whack-jobs like Giriko every other week, and sometimes things don't go like we planned. It was a fucked up situation, I don't blame you for that."

She frowned. "Then what-?"

"I mean before!" he burst out, surprising intensity in his tone. "Maka, you... you... look, I know it was the Book influencing you. Whatever it was you saw in the Chapter of Envy, that's your business. But you tried to break up our partnership!"

He stared up at her, and the look in his eyes left her legs incapable of supporting her weight. Her attempt to end their partnership had clearly shaken him more than she'd thought, because his stare was plaintive and he looked so... _bereft_. Soul was always so guarded, so careful with his emotions. He only let people see the surface layer, what he deemed "safe" for others' consumption. He hadn't been able to hide from her quite as well, not since they began to resonate on a regular basis, but he still kept the casual mask on his face most of the time. Now, though, he was stripped bare, and the full weight of his emotions was visible in his expression. Whether it was tiredness or simply the roller-coaster ride of the mission catching up with him, Maka couldn't guess. Regardless, she couldn't have broken their eye contact if her life depended on it.

Before her shaking knees could fold under her, she sank down on the couch beside him.

"I did," she agreed. What else could she say? Her... well, for lack of a better word, she could only call it a _breakdown_ in the Chapter of Sloth was humiliating, but she would not deny that it had happened. "I'm sor-"

"No, you don't have to apologize," Soul interrupted. "I told you that you didn't need to and I meant that. I just... I need you to understand that I..." He broke off, running a hand distractedly through his hair. He was still looking at her with that same desperate intensity. "Don't you know how stupid that is?" he blurted out.

She shook her head. How could he not _get_ it? "It's not that stupid. It's logical. I'm-" She drew a fortifying breath, struggling with admitting to the same weakness twice in twenty-four hours. "-I'm not a strong enough meister to deserve to be your technician, Soul."

"Bullshit!"

"It's _not_, though," she said. "Everyone can see it. You're incredible, Soul. You were an amazing weapon way before you became a death scythe, but now..." She shook her head sadly. "We're both so much stronger together than we are alone, I understand that. But if you're stronger with me, doesn't it make sense that you'd be even stronger with a better technician?"

Soul let out a humorless, choking laugh. "Are you kidding me, Maka?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It's only logical."

He shook his head firmly, and she caught another glimpse of that wild, desperate look in his eyes before he had grabbed her and pulled her to him in an embrace that seemed to be a great deal more for his benefit than for hers. His arms wrapped around her tightly and her face was pressed into his shoulder while he buried his own in her damp locks.

"Maka," he murmured into her hair, "if you really, seriously decided you wanted to end our partnership, I would let you, but only if I was absolutely sure that it was really what you wanted and not because of some twisted idea that you'd be doing me a favor."

She stayed still in his arms, slumped against his body and still marveling at the raw, bare emotion in his voice. She hadn't known he cared this much.

"I don't even understand where this crazy idea that you're not good enough came from, anyway," he continued. "You're an amazing meister, Maka."

Quite without her consent, her fingers had curled around the sleeve of his t-shirt, holding onto him in the smallest of ways because she was selfish and damn it all she _needed_ him. "Not the best, though," she said into his shoulder. "You deserve the best, Soul. Every single meister at Shibusen without a weapon- and a lot of those _with_ one- want to be partnered with you. You've got your pick of the best of the best."

His arms tightened around her even further if that was possible. "You idiot," he hissed. "Did it ever occur to you that I don't give a shit? Did you ever think that I might not want anybody else but you poking around my _soul?_"

She hadn't. "I-"

"Geezus, Maka, I can't even begin to imagine trying to resonate with somebody else!"

She leaned back, forcing him to ease up his grip on her (but he didn't let go entirely, she noticed), as she peered up into his face. In the dim light from the floor lamp, his eyes gleamed a deep garnet color. His stare was fierce, a challenge to her to really _think_ about what she had actually suggested when she demanded they part ways.

And so she did. She thought about Soul, who had taken years and years of partnership to open up to her even the little bit that he had, tried to imagine him taking on another partner and... it was impossible. He might be better with a more skilled meister, but it wasn't conceited of her to think that he would never have the kind of bond with anyone that he did with her, just as she would never be this close to anyone else. She wasn't sure why, but for some reason he had chosen her to be the one that he let in (some of the time, anyway). Maka knew that although she might be able to match wavelengths with any number of weapons out there, she would never be able to resonate as strongly with any of them as she did with Soul, if at all. And if the same was true for Soul... well, of course he wouldn't want that.

"I'm sorry, Soul," she told him softly, sincerely. "I didn't think about it that way. I mean, I know I was being stupid, but I didn't realize that it... that it mattered."

He was looking at her in that way that made her feel like he was the one with soul perception instead of her. "You didn't think _you_ mattered, is that it?" He let out a chuckle entirely devoid of humor. "You've gotta be _kidding_ me."

"Well I don't know!" she protested. "You're really hard to read sometimes, you know? I don't know where I stand with you."

And that was the rub, wasn't it? Here was Soul- beautiful, difficult, strange and bitter-sweet Soul- who would go and throw himself into harms way for her without a second thought, but could be so infuriatingly inscrutable that half the time she was ready to throw her hands up and just scream because she _could not understand him_. Sometimes she was so sure he cared for her as more than his meister, as more than his friend, but sometimes...

Sometimes she was forced to acknowledge the fact that this heart-aching affection that had made its home in her very soul was most likely all on her. She had tried everything, given him every opportunity to make his feelings known, but he hadn't taken the chance. Hell, she had practically told him straight out during their first attempt at flying, but either she was the worst hint-dropper in the history of the world or Soul was choosing to ignore what she felt was her painfully obvious infatuation for the sake of their partnership. It smarted to admit, but it was more than probably the latter. She wasn't his angel, not like Kim was to Ox, and everything would be so much easier if she could just accept that already. But as smart as she was, when it came to matters of the heart it appeared that Maka Albarn was as dumb as everybody else, if not more so.

At her pronouncement, though, Soul was staring at her with the strangest look on his face. She couldn't understand why he appeared so baffled and amused and annoyed.

"You mean you don't know?" he asked, voice dropping to that low rumbling baritone that never failed to make her heart rate pick up. "You honestly don't know by now what you mean to me?"

Maka suddenly felt exceedingly silly, as if she had missed the obvious answer on an exam. "Well... not really, no."

He snorted, incredulous and visibly frustrated. "Idiot. For someone so damn smart, you really suck at reading the writing on the wall, you know that?"

"Well, I don't see how insulting me is going to-!"

"Maka, I was _fucked up_ before I met you!" Soul burst out, startling her with the vehemence in his words. The stress of the day had clearly taken its toll and his mask had fractured, allowing her a rare and unimpeded look directly into his unfiltered emotions. His eyes gleamed scarlet in the lamplight and his hands clamped down on her shoulders as he kept her locked in place with his gaze.

"You're the first person in my whole damn life who made me feel like maybe I wasn't a worthless piece of shit! Do you have any idea how much that... how much I..." He shook his head agitatedly and changed direction, apparently stuck for how to continue his previous train of thought. "I would die for you Maka and you damn well know it. You're my best friend in the whole fucking world and I feel like- like I'm safe with you around and I- I- Argh! Shit, I don't know how to do this." He ran one hand through his hair, frustrated. "Quit looking at me like I'm having some kind of mental breakdown!"

But Maka couldn't have broken her unblinking stare for anything, because she was in the process of having an epiphany. She wasn't quite sure how she had come to this conclusion, but she suddenly understood that in his own rambling, incoherent way, Soul was trying to tell her that he loved her.

She whispered his name, reaching up to cradle his bruised cheek in her hand. She smiled when he leaned into her touch, his frustration fading into exhausted disquiet.

"You told me to leave you behind, Maka, but I can't do that," he said softly. "I would do just about anything for you but I can't leave you. You're the best part of my life."

Maka's heart was racing and she felt on the verge of tears because she had been through hell and back today and she was feeling too much to contain. She could feel her partner's soul, close and warm and reassuring, and the open emotion on his face was too much for her to deal with. She had always known that her partner wasn't even close to the detached and unemotional person he liked to make people believe he was, but seeing him with all his defenses down was overwhelming.

"I feel the same way," she told him.

And because she couldn't stand waiting in limbo for one more second, she leaned in and kissed him.

Soul froze, and for a breathless second, Maka half-thought she'd made an awful mistake. Then, as if he'd finally caught up to what was happening, Soul practically melted, pressing closer and eagerly joining in the kiss.

It was a little clumsy, as first kisses usually are. Maka wasn't exactly sure how all this worked and she kept bumping her nose into his, and Soul didn't seem to be able to figure out where his hands should go. After a moment of fumbling, he tentatively placed one hand on her waist and brought the other up to cup her face, tilting her head and finally finding an angle where their noses weren't completely in the way. As awkward as it was, though, Maka was wholly enthralled. She had thought about this before, but she could never have dreamed all the little details. She had never imagined how intimate it would seem to feel Soul's breath on her cheek, or the sensation of catching his lower lip between hers, or the way he leaned into her as if he couldn't get enough.

She broke the kiss, overwhelmed and with a racing heart.

Soul's hand slipped from her cheek to her shoulder, and she could feel the trembling in his fingers. "You... you too?" he asked shakily.

She nodded, unable to stop smiling. "Who else would I love but you?" she asked wryly.

"L-Love?"

His eyes went wide and once again Maka had a brief flare of panic that maybe she'd pushed too far. But before she could figure out how to backtrack, Soul's arms were around her, holding her close. Her cheek was pressed to his and if she hadn't known just how upset he had been at the thought of letting her go, she would have been tempted to laugh at his needy affection. But she did know. She had seen her level-headed partner completely lose his cool, and it stung to know that she had been the cause of it. After everything they had said and done today, wanting to reaffirm their bond was natural, and Soul had always been a very touchy person... though now that she thought about it, he was only really that way with her. She wasn't complaining, though. Being close to him was very comforting and she was never one to turn away hugs, especially from Soul.

"I never thought you'd feel the same way," he murmured in her ear.

She nodded. "Of course I do. We do everything together... even fall for each other, apparently. I mean, we're partners, right?"

She hadn't realized he was still so tightly wound until every bit of tension drained from his body. "Partners," he affirmed.

Because when it came right down to it, that was what they were. No matter what other definitions their unlikely relationship had, it all came back to that. They were bound together willingly, a connection forged when they were still not much more than children and tempered by hellfire. She had begun to understand that in the Book, begun to see that they weren't so easily torn apart, but she knew it absolutely now. She had no more defenses to throw up to keep him at a distance, nothing left holding her back. She was stripped bare. There was no more room for doubt where he was concerned. And she wanted to make certain Soul knew that.

She pulled free from his embrace enough to look him in the eye. "You _are_ my partner, Soul. I'm not going to doubt that anymore. We're better together."

"Damn right we are," he agreed emphatically, coaxing a giggle from her.

"Now let's go to bed, because this has been a really long awful day and I'm exhausted."

Maka found it incredibly cute that even though it was only maybe thirty feet to her bedroom, Soul not-so-subtly grabbed her hand as they walked down the hall. The shy little kiss he planted on her cheek at her doorway and the faint hint of red in his cheeks when he pulled away were too sweet for words, so she settled for flashing him the warmest smile she had and muffling her happy squeeing into a pillow once she was safely closed away behind her bedroom door.

It might have been a really awful day, but once the scores were counted, Maka figured she'd come out ahead.


	7. Laceration

**Author's Note-** *unapologetically pours salt on an open wound*

* * *

**Laceration**

* * *

With every second that Stein spends distracted by the demon sword and the witch accompanying them, Maka can feel grains of sand slipping fast through a terrifyingly small hourglass. She sits sprawled on the cold stone of the basilica, trying her best to keep pressure on the wound like she's been taught, but the gash right down her partner's chest is enormous and her hands are so _tiny_-!

She has never been so useless before.

Stein's white coat is drenched in blood. Some of it is spatters of the mad swordsman's black blood shed in his- or her? Maka couldn't tell- battle with Stein, but most of it is rich red, still seeping through from beneath. With the blur of tears in her eyes keeping her from seeing clearly, she can almost pretend it's the jagged pattern of colors of her partner's blade.

Soul's blades really _are_ beautiful, she thinks. She's never seen a weapon like him, never in her whole life. She never told him this. She never once told him how beautiful he was because it was such a strange thing to say, he'd probably laugh at her, and there was always tomorrow.

She was so naive. Even in their line of work, she was actually arrogant enough to assume there would be a tomorrow.

Maka doesn't really believe in any god but the one she serves, but at the moment she's sending out a desperate prayer to anyone who might be listening. If she just gets the chance, she won't be so stupid again.

The world goes by in a haze around her. She just sits there, fingers pressed fruitlessly to Soul's chest until she's pulled away by a pair of hands she doesn't recognize.

"No, wait-!" She can't leave Soul, she _can't!_ She's so useless, there's nothing she can do to help but she can stay with him, she won't leave him alone! She lashes out, pushing away the disembodied hands that try to restrain her and screaming for Soul, but they're taking him away, a group of people in scrubs directed by Stein-!

And then her Papa is there, wrapping his jacket around her, whispering to stop struggling and let the medical team take care of Soul.

She doesn't even remember to be angry with him, just clutches the lapels of the coat to pull it closer.

"Let's go home," he tells her.

Outside in the square, a helicopter with Shinigami's mask stamped on the side is waiting, and across the distance she can just see Soul on a stretcher, being carefully loaded on board.

But her Papa isn't taking her to the helicopter, he's steering her the opposite direction, away from Soul. That... that isn't right. She can't leave Soul alone, she can't let him go. What if he wakes up? What if he needs her?

She rips away from Papa and races across the square, making a mad dash for the chopper.

He catches up to her quickly. "Sweetheart, come on, we've got a plane waiting for us."

"I need to go with Soul!" she protests, lurching away from the restraining hand he tries to lay on her shoulder.

"Maka, Dr. Stein is going to take good-"

"_I need to go with him!_"

Is that really her voice, so high and loud and panicky? It must be, because those are her words and the only thought in her head, but she can't even recognize her own voice, she can't even see. Why can't she see?

Oh. It's because she's still crying.

Papa wipes at her cheeks and looks over her head, probably at the professor but Maka doesn't look around to check.

"We've got room for one more," Stein says in a tone much too clinical for her taste. Why is he still speaking as though everything is normal? Her partner is right there, bleeding out in the bay of the helicopter, and he's talking just like he's giving a lecture on a Wednesday.

But then she's being guided to the helicopter so she guesses it doesn't matter much because she won't be separated from Soul.

The next minutes are a blur. Time seems to be working a little funny. At some point, the chopper takes off, and eventually Maka realizes someone wrapped a blanket around her somewhere along the line. The only thing she's really aware of are the occasional glimpses she gets of Soul's face as Stein and the two medics who accompanied them in the helicopter work on him.

Eventually, Stein retires to the back of the bay to slump down and apparently go to sleep. One of the medics sits down beside her and explains that Soul is going to require surgery too extensive to do in flight, so they've done their best to stabilize him and temporarily seal the wound with butterfly bandages until they can reach Shibusen. Maka nods like she's really comprehending words right now and goes back to staring at Soul's face, which she can see clearly now without people buzzing around him.

He's so pale. It's strange to see, he normally has such a healthy color, but his skin isn't much darker than his hair or the blanket they've covered him with. The tiny part of her that still has any ability to think clearly registers that it's probably from shock and blood loss. Her eyes flicker around him and she spots the IV bag hanging from a hook on the wall, the intravenous tube vanishing from sight beneath the blanket. Good, replenishing fluids is good, he lost so much blood...

Maka stares more intently, peering into his soul, and though it's weak and fluttery it's undeniably _there_. Even now, she can feel his soul reaching out for hers. The knowledge isn't as comforting as it should be.

She has such tunnel vision sometimes- she knows this about herself- and Maka supposes that blinded her to the recognition of just what a partner she has in him. She doesn't appreciate him, always, takes for granted that he'll be there. As she watches his face twitch with phantoms of the pain he must be feeling, she swears she won't take him for granted anymore.

Was it really just an hour or two ago that they were riding his motorcycle through the streets of Rome, bickering in that way that they did and relishing the thrill of the hunt, never dreaming that something like this was waiting for them? It can't be possible. How can Soul go from casually mocking Black*Star to hovering on death's door so fast?

"Shinigami-sama, please, don't take him yet," she whispers. She can't lose him, he's too precious to her.

It isn't just Soul's blade that's beautiful. It's all of him. He puts on such a good show sometimes that she forgets what lies underneath it, what drew her to him in the first place. He's got such a gentle heart, though he doesn't often show it. He looks after her, shows that he cares in his own strange way. He's her very best friend. And _death_, he's loyal to a fault.

So loyal that he threw himself between her and oblivion.

Maka stares down at her hands.

They are covered in Soul's blood.


	8. Rob From the Rich

**A/N-** Another request from Professor Maka, this time for a Robin Hood AU.

* * *

**Rob From the Rich...**

* * *

She was going to absolutely strangle her incompetent informant when (if) she got back to her hideout! That damn ninja had sworn that Lady Evans and her sons had left the family's summer estate to rejoin her husband in London, and that except for their cook and guardsman the place would be empty. Perfect for snatching a few choice items from the richest family in all Nottingham.

But clearly, seeing as she was currently being pinned on the floor by none other than Soul Evans himself, the house was not as empty as Black*Star had said.

He wouldn't have even managed to land a hit on her, but she'd let her guard down. Arrogant, a beginner's mistake, and it had gotten her caught.

"So, you're the infamous Fox Bandit, is that it?" he drawled, somehow managing to sound angry and bored all at once.

Maka thrashed, trying to throw him off, but she was too small and he had her at a disadvantage. She couldn't get the right leverage.

"I suppose I'm not surprised you tried to rob my family," he said. "You've hit every other wealthy citizen in the county, it was only a matter of time. And I must say, although I don't care much about whatever it is you were planning to steal, it's a little insulting to be left for last."

She attempted to spit in his face, but was thwarted by her mask and scarf, which had slipped to cover her mouth.

"Rude," Soul said, great amusement dancing in his hypnotic red eyes. "Alright now, let's have a look at you. What kind of man could be behind the legend of the Fox?"

Maka kicked him, but she had no room so the attack was useless. She tossed her head from side to side, squirming desperately, trying to keep her face covered because her identity as the Fox was her strongest protection against retribution.

But it was no good, and he had her mask off in moments. His jaw dropped. "You're a _girl?_"

He was visibly stunned and that was all the opening Maka needed to twist free from his grip, flip him off of her onto his back, and whip out the knife she had in her boot. Her scarlet hood fell away, revealing her fully to him.

Soul stared up at her from his place on the floor, propped up awkwardly on one elbow as he scrambled back away from her. "You're not just _any_ girl!" he exclaimed. "You're the dau-"

"Daughter of the Baron of Albarn, yes," she finished, rolling her eyes.

"But… but you died! Everyone said you died!"

"Obviously "everyone" was wrong," Maka sneered.

He narrowed his eyes in confusion, stumbling to his feet and then throwing his hands up in surrender when she brandished the knife dangerously close to his cheek.

"Hey, easy there!" he protested. "I know it isn't much but I kind of like my face, I'd rather not have it all scarred up, thanks."

"Then I guess you'd better hold still," Maka replied, laying the blade against his face.

He glared at her. "Why are you doing this? Why steal from people? Your father has all the money you could possibly-"

"It's not for me, dimwit," she snapped back. "And it's not really stealing, it's… well, call it a _redistribution of assets_."

"So if it's not for you, then you're giving it to…?"

She stared intensely into the low fire burning in the grate behind him, just visible over his broad shoulders. "There are people starving in the streets, Soul Evans. They're dying for want of a crust of bread, while the king and our parents- mine and yours both- sit on mountains of gold. It's not right."

Maka saw the exact moment that understanding hit him. "So you're robbing the rich and giving it to the poor?"

"Yes."

He grinned suddenly, a roguish smile that was as dangerous for the effect it had on her suddenly wobbly knees as it was for the sharpness of his teeth. "Take me with you," he demanded.

She lurched back from him in startlement. "What?"

"Take me with you. I've been looking for an excuse to get away from my family for ages and what you're doing sounds good. Fun. Kind of noble, in a twisted sort of way."

"I don't think so."

"Come on! Let me come along."

"Not a chance." She couldn't be burdened with a boy even more spoiled than she had been when she had fled her home so many years ago.

He sighed. "Fine. Just remember I asked nicely. If you don't take me with you, I'll go straight to Sheriff Law and tell him the real identity of the Fox Bandit."

"Or maybe I'll just cut your throat right now and be done with it!" she shouted, darting forward once more to press her blade to the delicate skin of his throat.

He squinted out of the corner of his eyes to try and get a glimpse of her knife (it was a wasted effort and only served to make him go rather adorably cross-eyed). Then he looked back at her. "You're not a killer," he said firmly.

Maka hesitated, weighing her options and the sincerity in his gaze, before asking, "Do you have horses?"

"Yes."

"Can you have them saddled quickly?"

"Yes."

"I hope you're a good rider, Soul Evans, because we have a long way to go before sunrise."


	9. Value Me

**A/N-** For Livi.

* * *

Soul had long since learned his lesson about transforming mid-battle to take blows for her when his meister couldn't dodge in time. It had been beaten into his brain repeatedly (and it had definitely taken some beating) that no matter how strong his instinct to protect Maka from any and all harm might be, getting himself hurt and potentially incapacitated was setting her up for a premature death. So, with time and experience, Soul learned to just grit his teeth and stay in weapon form and do his job the way it was expected of him.

That didn't mean it didn't fucking _kill_ him whenever he had to see his meister limping home, after a tougher than usual mission, trying to pretend like every single step wasn't agonizing.

This week's target, a fanged motherfucker straight from the pages of _Fifty Shades of **Batshit Crazy**_, had taken a good chomp on Maka's left leg. She had managed to finish the kill, but something in the pre-kishin's saliva had been toxic (Nygus had compared it to the bacteria-laced bite of a komodo dragon) and she had been feverish and insensate within half an hour. Hauling her back to DC from Vegas on his motorcycle, a good hour and a half drive when obeying the speed limit, had been among the most nerve-wracking forty minutes of his life. Trying desperately to hold her upright in front of him on the bike and simultaneously convince her to keep talking to him, even if it was delusional rambling, was something that was most definitely going to be haunting his nightmares for awhile.

Once they got her back to the infirmary at Shibusen, Kim had worked her usual magic to purge the infection from her system, but there was only so much she could do. The deadly side effects of the wound had been averted, but it was late and the young witch had been drained even before they arrived, and so the wound itself- to say nothing of the usual accumulation of cuts and bruises and probably at least one sprained extremity- was going to have to heal the natural way.

She let him change her bandage for her and doctor up all the little scrapes with Neosporin but, stubborn girl that she was, she refused to let him help her into her pajamas, even though several hours of dangerously high fever had left her shaky and sore. Soul wished he was surprised, and he wished he could do more for her.

He settled for bringing her a glass of water and some painkillers once they were both dressed for bed.

"You good?" he asked, once she had gulped down the pills with telling enthusiasm.

She nodded. "Little sore, but I'll feel better in the morning." It was a bald-faced lie and they both knew it, because the day after a rough mission was a lot like the day after a car accident- you definitely felt worse once the adrenaline had worn off.

"Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Nygus looked me over while Kim was working on you, I got off pretty easy this-"

"Soul." Her soft, compelling tone as she spoke his name like that was better than a gag for silencing him. "Are you _okay?_"

As always, his all-too-intuitive meister saw right through his smokescreens. No, he was not okay. They'd been lucky tonight, but if they'd been farther out from Death City or if they'd been in a car instead of on his bike, preventing him from weaving his way right through the serious traffic jam on the highway out of Vegas, or if that gash had been deeper and closer to the big artery in her leg… Soul was analytical by nature, and he knew that the second he closed his eyes he was going to see every single way that tonight's mission could have gone much, much worse than the shitshow it had been as it was. And of course, she knew that. Once upon a time, he was pretty sure he'd been good at pulling the wool over her eyes… or more like she'd known something was up with him but he'd been so determined to maintain his emotional walls that he'd fed her a steady stream of bullshit until she just gave up in exasperation. Since those early days, however, she'd gotten more determined to get past his barriers and he'd gotten worse at keeping them up where she was concerned. He couldn't keep much from her these days.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Little tired, you know. Long night."

And, of course, Maka knew exactly what he meant, because she wouldn't be Maka if she couldn't read between the lines. Her eyes were hazy with tiredness, but her concern for him shone through.

He wished she wouldn't worry about him so much. He didn't deserve it.

"Well… night."

Before he could make it out the door of her bedroom, to crawl into his own cold bed and wrap himself up in the quilt he'd stolen from Maka like it would somehow ward off black blood-fueled nightmares, her voice halted him in his tracks.

"Soul, would you stay with me tonight?"

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. There were so many reasons why sharing a bed with his meister was a horrendously bad idea, morning wood and unrequited feelings being at the top of the list but by no means the extent of it. He wasn't embarrassed about her being witness to him in the throes of a nightmare anymore, because god only knew she'd seen him through enough of them, but he also knew she was even more exhausted physically and mentally than he was. She needed a good night's sleep, and dealing with him freaking out because he couldn't keep a handle on his shit wasn't really conducive to that.

"Maka-"

"Please?"

And dammit, he sucks at saying no to her. He can refuse to do the dishes (for all of three minutes before he caves because it actually is his turn), he can refuse to let her do dumb shit that's guaranteed to get her killed (but usually he goes along with that, too), but when she asks in that sweet, earnest voice for something that he knows only too well is mostly for his benefit rather than hers, asking out of her unfailing, baffling concern for _him_… well, what's a weapon supposed to do?

It didn't help his shaky resolve any that getting Maka cuddles, even under unfortunate circumstances, was the highlight of any day as it was. A whole night spent snuggling with his meister in her little twin bed was basically the jackpot.

"…fine."

"Well you don't have to sound so enthusiastic about it," she grumbled, but she looked relieved. So much so, in fact, that Soul mentally readjusted his calculations that her request was 90% out of concern for him and 10% for her benefit. Maybe it was more like 70/30.

He switched off the light and tentatively climbed into bed beside her, trying to situate himself so that he wouldn't jostle her bandaged thigh when the inevitable nightmares had him thrashing around. Maka's bed was tinier than he'd thought, and it took them awhile to get comfortable. Eventually they ended up spooning, because there was no other way they were going to fit comfortably.

The fact that they fit perfectly together like this, with Soul's arm slung loosely over her waist, made his heart hurt in the best possible way.

They murmured drowsy goodnights, and then Maka was asleep almost immediately.

Soul lay awake for some time in the dark, counting her pulse in a steady cut-time and breathing in the scent of her hair, mixed tonight with sweat and the bitter ozone smell that lingered where magic had been worked on her.

Sometimes, on nights like these, when they'd had a narrow escape and Soul couldn't quite brush it off like usual, he pondered how much of a miracle it was that he had her in his life at all.

Speaking his thoughts aloud usually helped him straighten out the mess in his head, and as little as he was looking forward to the visions of his meister bloody on the pavement that were going to haunt him the moment he drifted off, he was tired enough that he just wanted his brain to be quiet so that he could get some sleep.

"Stuff like tonight scares the hell out of me," he said, quietly so as not to wake her, hardly a ghost of an echo in the night. "M'gonna have nightmares for weeks about everything that coulda gone wrong. Almost every nightmare I've ever had has been about you getting hurt, you know that? It's probably better that you don't, though. You'd get all weird and guilty about it like you do, and that's just no good for anybody. It's not your fault my head's all fucked up. Hell, you're the only reason I'm not way more messed up than I already am.

"What would I do without you?" he whispered into her hair, feeling a rush of intense gratitude for the young woman who had accepted him so wholly into her life, brought him so close to her soul, looked right at him and smiled like he wasn't a useless freak but someone worth believing in. "I'd be a lot worse off, I know that much. Seriously. You have no idea, Maka. Well, maybe you have a little bit of an idea, because you're smart like that, but… you have _no_ idea. You make my whole world brighter, you know? You make me feel like… like I matter. Like I'm worth something. Like I belong somewhere."

He wasn't sure how this had turned into him pouring out his heart to his unconscious love, but he decided just to go with it. Maybe saying these things to her under cover of darkness, when she was sleeping, would somehow make it easier to deal with his feelings in the light of day.

"You're- _god_ this is cheesy, but Maka, you're _home_ to me. Maybe that sounds stupid, but it's the truth. The only thing in the whole world I really need is you. If everything else in my life fell apart… well, it wouldn't be the first time, but if it did, I'd be okay as long as I still had you in my life. You're the only person I never get tired of, you know? You _get_ me, and I don't know how that's even possible, but you do and I'm so grateful for it. The fact that someone as smart and strong and good as you can understand me and care about me… fuck, Maka, that means everything to me. So you gotta stop getting yourself almost killed every other week, okay? My hair can't get any whiter, but you're gonna give me a heart attack for real one of these days, and dying of a heart attack at eighteen is seriously not cool. I'd like to stick around for awhile."

Maka drew in a deeper breath, interrupting her steady rhythm and Soul froze, thinking she'd awakened, but she settled back down quickly.

Shyly, Soul dared to press a tender kiss to the back of her head, burying his face in her hair as he settled in to try and get some sleep himself. With any luck, he thought, the smell of her shampoo would be a better deterrent to nightmares than her borrowed quilt.

It wasn't long before Soul, ever the expert when it came to falling asleep anywhere, at any time, drifted off at last. And once the soft sound of his snores filled the room, Maka cracked one eye open and twisted her head slightly to catch a glimpse of his face out of the corner of her eye.

"I love you too, idiot," she whispered, catching hold of the hand that was tucked protectively around her waist and twining their fingers together before she closed her eyes again and did her best to go back to sleep despite her madly pounding heart.

It seemed that being cuddled up so close to his meister and her soothing wavelength had some benefits besides the obvious, for though it wasn't the most restful night Soul had ever had, his sleep was not once disturbed by images of his partner gone lifeless and still.

* * *

**A/N part deux-** So I've been kind of radio silent on FFnet for a couple weeks, and the main reason for that is... February. I hate February so much for so many reasons and it always gives me awful writer's block. So I have quite a few backlogged half-finished projects in the works that will probably come bursting out like hotcakes or some equally ridiculous simile once we start getting properly into March. A new chapter of ANU, a sexy sequel to Amorous Appeals, a Cinderella AU starring Soul as the Cinderella character that will either end up in this collection or a standalone depending on how ridiculously long it gets... you know, the usual. And of course SoMa Week is coming up at the end of March, so stay tuned for that.

Also, if you've messaged me in the last few weeks and I haven't replied yet, I'm not ignoring you I just have the February "the weather is shit and I miss the sunshine" Blues.


	10. Cocktails

**A/N-** Ridiculous crack (sort of) at the request of Professor Maka. Enjoy your bit of fluffy cracky nonsense, ProMa!

* * *

Soul had his first and last experience with heavy drinking when he was sixteen and promptly decided that he liked hanging on to his self-control, thank you very much (the hangover hadn't been great, either). Maka, on the other hand, actually obeyed substance control laws... which meant that by the time she was of legal age, she had no tolerance built up. Given the fact that she was ridiculously petite, Maka's first experience with alcohol was inevitably going to be an _experience_ to say the least. If you had asked Soul the day before Maka's twenty-first birthday, he would have said that he absolutely was looking forward to seeing her get tipsy. He figured she'd probably be one of those really cute giggly drunks.

As he watched his meister chatting up some blond sleazeball at the bar, however, Soul found himself wondering how in the hell he had ever thought Drunk Maka was going to be a fun and entertaining experience.

This was all Kim's fault. Liz and Kid had been making plans to throw a surprise party for Maka at the Gallows, but Kim had put the kibosh on that the second she heard about it and insisted that "cocktails in Symmetrytown was no way for a girl to celebrate the big 2-1." The end result of Kim taking over the party planning had been a massive detour to Vegas, to a bar/club the pink-haired meister informed them was often frequented by young witches who wanted to mingle with humans. That statement had had Soul jumping out of his skin, but Kim assured them repeatedly that it was almost exclusively witches in her generation, younger girls trying to escape from the hidebound ways of their older predecessors. It wasn't entirely reassuring, but it was enough to keep him from putting his foot down on the escapade.

In retrospect, he really wished he had.

There might not be witch-girls crawling all over the place as he had envisioned when Kim had first proposed the scheme, but there _were_ an abundance of unnecessarily horny single dudes trying to get laid. Soul kind of thought he would prefer the witches. At least with them, Maka stood much less chance of becoming a virgin sacrifice.

To be fair, it actually was a nice place. The music was loud but not too loud once you got off the dance floor, and the bartenders were wickedly good at their job. Lots of slick chrome and stainless steel and frosted glass, a raised dance floor lit with a variety of shifting colored lights beneath a pane of plexiglass, it was all very shiny and futuristic, very cool. Soul could see why Kim had singled it out. Any other night he would probably have enjoyed coming here for a few hours to blow off some steam.

Unfortunately, on this particular night, he was stuck at a booth between Patti and Harvar, watching from a distance as Maka flirted with an absolute stranger. She had got up to go get another drink half an hour ago, and while she was waiting on the bartender to finish mixing her latest round of fruity frozen whatever-it-was, some slimy dudebro had approached her and started flirting, to which Maka had responded way too positively. By the time the bartender finally managed to get her drink to her, she had gotten absorbed in conversation with Blond Douche and by then it was too late because once Maka decided she wanted to talk to somebody, hauling her away was a chore.

Soul revised his earlier opinion. The bartenders here were actually shit at their job, no one should have to wait long enough for a cocktail to actually start a conversation.

Maka had since finished her drink and ordered _another_ and showed no signs of being bored of the guy, even though he was clearly the kind of asshole who spent every Friday and Saturday night in dives like this (and probably the rest of the week, too). For god's sake, he knew his meister was something of a social butterfly, but this was just ridiculous! What was so interesting about that prick anyway? He wasn't even Maka's type! Granted, Soul wasn't sure exactly what Maka's type was, because they usually had more important things to talk about than gossiping about what she looked for in a man, but it was definitely not that guy.

He gave the guy and his stupid tight tank top with his stupid bulging biceps a calculating once-over. No, definitely not Maka's type. Maka probably liked someone quieter, someone who knew what to do with himself outside a club scene, someone who didn't need alcohol to be interesting. Probably someone who was in the same line of work, because civs just didn't get what it was like fighting evil for a living and wouldn't appreciate what she did. She'd probably like someone smart enough to keep up with her but not so smart that it became competitive. She would definitely want a sensitive guy, someone who took the time to understand her, someone looking for a relationship not just a hookup, someone with a little _fashion sense good god_...

Oh, who was he kidding? He was just trying to convince himself that she'd be interested in a guy like him. He'd waited six years for her, not counting the years of their partnership that had come before he woke up one day and realized that _oh, he loved her_, and in all that time he couldn't think of a single clue Maka had given that she might share the feeling. It was a very good thing Soul had realized that being cool wasn't all it was cracked up to be, because spending years pining for a girl who wasn't gonna reciprocate was the height of uncool.

Also uncool was the way he shattered the glass in his hand when Maka stumbled and ended up plastered across Blond Douche's chest to keep from falling to the floor. The sight of the rat bastard's hands on her- in places that _definitely_ were not necessary to keep the tipsy meister upright, thank you very much!- had Soul seeing red.

"You okay, man?" Harvar asked.

"Just fine," Soul replied, although he supposed his bared teeth and ongoing attempts to _light that motherfucker on fire with his eyes_ might belie the statement just a little bit. "Hey Patti, can you get up for a sec? I need to get out."

"Why?" the blonde asked innocently, looking up from the cocktail napkin she had been cheerfully shredding for uses yet-unknown.

He growled in exasperation. "I- Fucking- could you just-? Dammit, Patti, just lemme out!"

"Fine, geez, you don't have to be a meanie-pants about it," she grumbled, sliding out of the booth to free him.

Soul rocketed out of his seat and was across the club in ten seconds flat, planting himself squarely at Maka's side. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back sharply, dislodging Blond Douche's hands from where they had been inching steadily in the direction of her (rather fantastic) ass. "There you are!" he exclaimed, giving the bottom dweller who'd been quasi-fondling her a glare that told him in no uncertain terms that he was not here to play nice.

"What the hell, Soul?" Maka demanded.

"I got worried when you never came back," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder possessively. He was aware he was pushing his luck, but slinging an arm around her to let Douchey McDoucherton know it wasn't open season on meisters was platonic enough, right? And the fact that Maka smiled cheerfully up at him was a good sign- he hadn't crossed any boundaries.

Blondie apparently hadn't gotten the hint, however, because he said, "Uh, dude, we were having a conversation here."

"Yeah, I saw how _friendly_ you were getting," Soul shot back.

The other guy snorted. "Whatever, buddy. Still got farther than you, since she ditched you. Can't take a hint that she's not into your ugly ass, huh?"

"You motherf-!"

"I got it, Soul," Maka said, slapping a hand sloppily over his mouth to silence him. She shrugged off his arm, which Soul thought was probably going to turn out to be a mistake, since she wasn't exactly steady on her feet, but he let her go. "_You_-" she declared, pointing an accusatory finger at Sir Douche-a-lot, "-are not a nice boy. I thought you were a nice boy but you are not, and I'm very disgurt- disgruntled that you have deceived me with regards to your character! Now let me tell you-"

Soul clamped his teeth down on his lips to keep from laughing out loud. Apparently Drunk Maka took monologing lessons from Excalibur, and it was very entertaining to watch. She wasn't slurring her words, exactly- in fact he would say that she was over-enunciating to compensate for her intoxication- but the time distortion effect that came with being drunk was having an obvious effect and she stretched her syllables in very unlikely ways. She had also apparently become uncommonly fond of flamboyant hand gestures to accompany her words, and nearly knocked her wannabe one-night-stand's drink out of his hand on more than one occasion.

"-and you see this handsome guy here? Yeah, this one?" She turned and poked Soul in the chest for emphasis. "His name is Soul Eater. You may have heard of him. You see, he's the Last Death Scythe. And I'm the meister who trained him. Yeah, that's right, I see you going pale! Well, you _should_ be scared, because we're the team that slayed the witch Arachne. We defeated Asura. We're the reason the moon turned black. We kill scum for a living... and let me tell you, I for one consider womanizing jerks who try to pick up unsuspecting women in bars for a wham-bam-thank you ma'am kind of deal to be a very special kind of scum, so if you thought you were gonna flatter me and tell me about your sister and thought you'd get an easy screw out of the deal, then you have another think coming, you utter cocksucker!"

"Oh-kayyyy, aaaand I think we've made our point!" Soul said, clamping his hands down on Maka's shoulders and pointing her easily from Blond Douche, who currently looked like he might need a respirator or something. Soul smirked at him over his shoulder as he guided Maka away.

"Awwww, I wasn't done," Maka whined as he guided her back to the booth their group had claimed. "I wanted to see if I could make him cry!"

"You can try and make the next one cry," Soul said absently, steering her into the empty space left when Patti scooted over uncomfortably close to Harvar.

"I really thought he was very nice and friendly," Maka observed, sipping cheerfully on the straw stuck into what Soul assumed was a strawberry margarita. "Apparently I'm a very bad judge of character when I'm drunk." She looked up at Soul, green eyes wide and a little unfocused. "I'm sorry he called you an ugly ass," she said. "You're not an ugly ass. In fact, I think your ass is very nice. It looks really great in those tight jeans you w-"

"Oh my god Maka shut up!" Soul exclaimed as he slapped a hand over her babbling mouth, fully aware that his face had gone bright red.

She giggled and pushed his hand away (though her depth perception was off, so it took her a few tries). "Did I embarrass you, Soul?"

"No, I just don't think it's necessary to talk about my ass in public!"

"Awwww, I did embarrass you! I'm sorry," she said, and threw her arms around his neck in an enthusiastic hug.

Even though his face was still covered in a burning blush, Soul decided that maybe he had been right after all. Drunk Maka_ was_ pretty cute, and if it meant extra hugs for him, he had no complaints.

Patti tossed a large handful of cocktail napkin confetti over their heads and began humming Pachelbel's Canon in D.

* * *

**A/N-** As always, I welcome your feedback and constructive criticism!


End file.
